


Past and Present

by The_Little_Sun



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AKA, Author awkwardly avoids her other fics, Flowey is vaguely hinted at, Gen, Panic Attacks, Papyrus Needs A Hug, Papyrus Remembers Resets, Sans is a good big bro, Trying to jumpstart my writing again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7229629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Little_Sun/pseuds/The_Little_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This morning was...different. Papyrus hates that it feels so wrong.</p>
<p>It was going to happen sooner or later. And probably multiple times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past and Present

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a crazy few weeks and haven't written at all. This is only to get myself back into the groove. I will update everything soon!  
> I also now have a wonderful beta who was sweet enough to deal with me, so things should be less messy now!

It was barely five. The small, snow-covered town was silent. Soon the CORE-powered lights would gently brighten up the town, and the residents of Snowdin would wake up and begin their usual day-to-day doings.  In a large house towards the eastern end of Main Street, however, the early morning lights would never be the first to brighten up the home, not by a long shot. The younger inhabitant of the cozy house tended to be an early riser and busied himself with cooking and household chores until he set off for work. He was known for leaving all the lights on, regardless of the time of day.

Papyrus was following his routine this particular morning: approximately fifty steps to the kitchen, four steps to the fridge, and four more back to the counter. Then another fifty steps back upstairs to his room to clean up, followed by twenty steps to his older brother’s absurdly unorganized room. He didn’t bother counting the steps it took to finally wrangle the disorder into something slightly less chaotic. The total was surely over a hundred at this point anyway.

The tall skeleton all but ran back downstairs when he remembered that he had left breakfast in the oven. He skidded on the kitchen titles in his stockinged feet and nearly collapsed onto the table. The scuffed furniture already looked like it had been through a meat grinder, so it was likely that his occasional tumble into it barely made a difference in its appearance. That was the only change in his daily pattern. Did he bump the table? Entirely fall into it? It was a little disappointing that this collision was the only thing separating this day from any other so far.

But this morning-this morning was  _ different _ . There wasn’t anything out of place or something- _ someone _ -tapping at the door. But it felt entirely different, and suddenly the comfort that the constant routine brought to the young skeleton slipped away.

He did his best to ignore it. He focused on the slightly burnt pastries that refused to be removed from the pan, focused on trying to wedge his spatula under the stubborn blackened crust. He grumbled at the unyielding ridiculousness of wrestling with his own breakfast.  But! He wasn’t one to be so easily defeated!

If only the overpowering feeling of wrongness would dissipate. The air felt charged. His magic was pushing against his SOUL uncomfortably. Uneasy shivers ran down his spine.

“Papyrus?”

The quiet voice shattered whatever flimsy walls he had built up.

_The dragging, clawing,_ _tangling, gripping, suffocating feeling, he needs to GET AWAY. Is_ he _here? Where is_ he _?_ He _shouldn’t be here. Why can he feel_ him? _Tugging on bones. Oddly hollow giggles at cries of pain. The morphing face that could so easily mimic his own. The ugly, chilling grin that split_ his _face in two, eyes like needles that dragged grooves into his bones._

“What-” The voice was fuzzy and familiar, but it couldn’t penetrate the horrific memories that hungrily circled through Papyrus’ thoughts.

_They were friends, weren’t they? Friends don’t hurt each other, not on purpose. But maybe he did something? He must have done something wrong to deserve such anger-pain-suffering-misery. If he had made his new friend_ _upset then why wasn’t_ he _still here? Still fuming and yelling and contorting into a figure that burned its sight into his nightmares. Why wasn’t Papyrus still sobbing, crying out for Sans? Sans, please, please-where are you? Begging for the mercy that did not exist in the monster. Please stop, please! FRIENDS AREN’T SUPPOSED TO KILL EACH OTHER._

_ It wasn’t  _ his _ fault.  _ He _ admitted to not having a soul, admitted that  _ he _ simply existed-DON’T TELL ANYONE THAT  _ HE _ EXIST-and that  _ he _ could control the very fabric of time.  _ He _ was angry, frustrated, hurting him helped. Shouldn’t he be willing to aiding a friend? _

There was a hand on his shoulder, jerkily shaking him. The same familiar, fuzzy,  _ safe _ voice was calling out, tugging at his conscious. Papyrus blinked a few times to clear away the sticky fragments of blinding terror. Without the panic-induced thoughts clogging his senses, he could tell that his brother was leaning up against him. He seemed to be shaking-or maybe that was just him?

He really didn’t want to meet Sans’ eyes. He’d fallen apart in front of his brother. He was supposed to be the strong one! The skeleton with a spring in his step and a smile on his face, not this mess of tears and rattling bones. Sans at least seemed to realize that Papyrus needed a moment to try and collect himself.

“Pap? What just happened ?” His voice was quieter than normal. Soft and inquisitive.

Papyrus really didn’t want to see Sans’ genuinely concerned expression.  _ He had messed up after all.   _ “I-I…” He came to a stuttered stop. Stutter? He didn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t stutter. Maybe he just needed to try to normalize his awkward, too shallow, too quick breathing. “I don’t r-really know.”

That didn’t work. His voice was  _ too quiet _ .

“Hey,” Sans mumbled,  “Whatever that was, it’s over now. So you’re okay, you’ll be okay now.” Sans dropped to his knees to better face Papyrus and wrapped him in a trembling embrace. Sans’ words sounded less like they were meant for him than for Sans himself.  “It’ll be okay, alright? Just breathe. Y’know, a couple of deep breaths in and out.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Papyrus shook his head then buried his face against his brother’s shoulder.

Sans gave him a squeeze.  “That’s fine. Whenever you feel up to it.”

They stayed there for longer than either would ever dare to admit. Too bad that such a tender, actually straight-forward, no nonsense, honest interaction had to happen on this particular day.

  
* **RESET.**


End file.
